


Like a Lady

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Dragon Age Fanfiction [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, Elves, F/M, Fingering, Halamshiral, Oral Sex, Pretty Dresses, Smut, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Trevelyan dances with Solas at the Winter Palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Lady

Halamshiral truly did have many wonders, so many secrets and lies, things hidden so deeply only the hands of a rogue could retrieve them. And they did – with expertise and gentle care, Lady Lusia Trevelyan got her hands dirty and brought many of them to light. It was fascinating to watch the Inquisitor’s long legs striding through hallways, the bearer of intrigue and gossip as she charmed her way across the Winter Palace. She had managed to convince Josephine to send out for proper tailoring, and thus Lady Montilyet produced thirteen ornate outfits that were a great deal better than the ones she had originally intended them to wear.

Solas’ clothing was blue silk and clean, grey fur styled to elven ideals. He’d even been given a mask, intricate silver and sapphire fabric that he chose to wear instead of the helmet he’d looked at earlier. The Inquisitor seemed very happy with her advisors and companions, and he had to admit, the tailored silks, satins, cottons and metals that made the Inquisition glitter had been artfully chosen. Indeed, her choice of headpiece was inspired – a simple gold circlet lined with Prophet’s Laurel was easy but spoke volumes politically. Lady Trevelyan was announcing herself wonderfully.

She wound the Empire around her finger with an ease and grace Solas was surprised at. For one who professed little practise at The Game – the youngest of three, hardly the favourite of the family – her skills were…somewhat erotic. A human woman should not have swayed Solas’ attention – there was so much at stake, so many secrets he could lose to – but Inquisitor Trevelyan in snug soft leather, green silk and gold, charming the Winter Palace to her side with a gentle smile and flirtatious laughter, it was that which got him almost warm enough to loosen his collar.

Most charming was her defence of him to the announcer, as he rattled off ‘Cassandra Allegra Calogera Philomena’ and Sera’s somewhat spiteful ‘Mai Bhalsych of Korsch’. What had originally been ‘The Inquisitor’s Elven Serving Man’ became ‘Lady Trevelyan’s Arcane Advisor, Solas’. It was quite lovely to hear the whispers of confusion at the thought of such an elf with a title – Dorian had always told him he dressed ‘hobo chic’ and he never made much effort to be otherwise. Her smile towards him when the adjustment had been made was soft and warm, and Solas found himself staring at her lips with intrigue.

She danced with Florianne, chatted with Briala, blackmailed a few people, and when the evening was done and the Duchess humiliated, the Inquisitor went outside to get some air. Solas found himself wandering to her side, watching her exhausted back leaning over the balcony.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here,” he began. “Thoughts?”

She ran a gloved hand through her fiery hair and sighed.

“It’s been a very long day,” she murmured, her voice soft. There was a gentle sensuality to it that he enjoyed listening to.

“For everyone, I imagine,” he agreed. “It’s nearly over now. Cullen’s giving the men their marching orders as we speak.”

“Back to Skyhold,” she sighed. Lady Trevelyan looked into the sky, and Solas felt like he should talk more to fill the quiet gap. But would it bother her?

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Just wondering if you had ever imagined that you might save Orlais and force an end to a Civil War,” he inquired.

“No, I was about to get married, actually,” she replied. “Or…Betrothed. Or…”

“You already have someone?” Solas asked. “And here you are, flirting with members of the Inquisition.”

“No, no,” Lusia said hurriedly. “My mother was close to dragging out the list of potential suitors when she heard news of the Conclave. She said something along the lines of ‘this will give you a proper story to tell to a potential husband,’ and sent me packing with my cousins to Haven.”

“You were there with family?” Solas queried.

“There are many Trevelyans in Ostwick,” she told him. “My cousins were from my father’s side. Hadrian and Olivia. I…I don’t suppose they survived the blast.”

“Did you want to get married?” Solas asked quickly.

“I suppose I was ready,” she sighed. “I might have landed myself a Vael, if I were very lucky. I definitely could have done worse than a Pentaghast, although a De Launcet would have been awful.”

“What did you do before that?”

“I mostly trained, sometimes I took contracts on the Chantry board. Occasionally I left the city to explore the lands around Ostwick, but mostly I was kept within the walls.”

“Do you miss Ostwick?”

She laughed.

“I miss life being simple, but I don’t miss Ostwick,” she admitted. “In Ostwick, life was easy. I mostly bought my own things but sometimes had my parents to fall back upon. I had no demands upon me to save the world – there was hardly pressure to have children.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?”

“That you have such a burden on you. It would be good for you to release it, but you can’t, can you?”

“I am the Herald of Andraste,” Lusia said grandly. “This burden was given by the Maker, and only he can release it.”

“Do you really believe that?” Solas asked.

“That the Maker is involved?”

He nodded.

“He has to be in some way,” she murmured. “Otherwise, what then?”

“Perhaps truthful uncertainty is better than obstinate certainty,” Solas advised.

“What does that mean?”

“That you should not close your mind to other influences,” he informed her.

“I’ve been raised by Maker-fearing parents all my life,” she began. “Why should I not believe in Him, or His hand here?”

“Perhaps you are  _too_  keen to see him involved?” he suggested. “Corypheus is proof enough of other powers at work in Thedas. It may be something else.”

“Then I’d like to meet these other powers,” she muttered. “They’re giving me a headache.”

“I apologise,” Solas said. “You must want a distraction, not more reminders of your duties.” He paused, looking back towards the ballroom, and then stood back, his arm sweeping out. “Come, whilst the music is still playing, dance with me!”

“I-I’d love to,” she stammered, and grasped the proffered hand of the suddenly exuberant elf, whose firm grip led her straight back inside, past the Empress and onto the dancefloor. The Inquisitor was surprised – she had thought that they would sway gently outside, but Solas, it seemed, was not interested in a private affair. Indeed, as his arm curled around her waist, it felt like he wanted the Orlesian court to see the Inquisitor, a woman of noble birth, dance with an elven apostate. He was not shy about their closeness, that was for sure. She had to admit, their varying shades went very well together - quite complementary, really. He definitely looked dashing. Indeed, there was a new look in his eyes that she didn’t recognise. The blue-grey had taken on some kind of steel – not dangerous, she felt, at least not to her. But it was determination, that much she could fathom.

His grip on her tightened as the musicians changed their tune, watching Gaspard observing in curiosity. The music was more sensual now, a dance for lovers, and Lusia didn’t know whether she should be intrigued or embarrassed that she would be dancing with Solas to this kind of music. She didn’t love him – granted, he was tall, and quite handsome – though as they began to step together, she couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. They were really very captivating, and such a calming shade. The seas near Ostwick had a similar colour. She suddenly felt very relaxed, but warm all at the same time.

Solas did not let her falter, his grip on her remaining true as he led her through the dance. Gold-trimmed silk floated behind her with each movement, her body pressed up against his, warmth seeping from her frame to his and vice versa. Her breath caught in her throat as Solas dipped her, her calf coiling around his to keep herself grounded, and she caught some of her team gazing at her in shock – although Iron Bull was practically grinning from ear to ear, and Josephine was actually blushing. Sera was with Bull, smirking her head off, and Dorian looked curious. Blackwall and Cullen both had their mouths open, and Cassandra was mouthing disgustedly. Vivienne looked disgusted too, but Cole was interested, and Leliana, though she watched, didn’t seem to disapprove.

The floor was empty but for the two of them, and Lusia felt the air change as Solas’ hand moved a little downwards, just above her rear as he worked her through the steps they took. There was a gentle gasp from those gathered, but if Lady Trevelyan had made a social faux pas, at this point, she didn’t care. She had eyes only for Solas, who in turn had dedicated his gaze to her, and her face flushed in expectation. This movement, the way he held her – it was the most potent seduction she had faced, and Lady Trevelyan really had always loved to dance. He moved with the grace of an animal, she could hardly put her finger on which one, and her hand, curled around the back of his neck, was anchored there tightly as he dipped her once more.

And suddenly the dance was over. Lusia couldn’t breathe. Solas stepped back and his eyes were dangerous now, an unrestrained power dancing in them that sent shudders down the back of her spine. They bowed to each other, and he visibly smirked as he straightened up.

“A distraction enough for you, Inquisitor?” he murmured.

“Very much so,” she whispered. He still held her hand, and he raised it to his lips, brushing soft skin over soft skin as he kissed her fingers.

“I always have time for you,  _lethallan_ ,” he told her softly.

“Solas,” she breathed. The elf stepped away politely, and Lusia tried desperately to regain control of her beating heart. With a predatory smile, Solas bowed again, and moved off to the refreshments table. The ballroom erupted with chatter, and the musicians hurriedly played another song as the nobles returned to dancing, more than one face pink and flushed from the intimate display. Lusia hurriedly fanned herself, rushing over to the elf in curiosity.

“Did you learn that in the Fade?” she asked, her breathing heavy.

“Indeed,” the elf replied smoothly. “I have watched man and woman dance in harmony many times in my dreams. I had not thought to try it out in reality, but it was…”

He paused, and she  _felt_  his eyes flick over her approvingly.

_“Exuberating.”_

“I thought you didn’t  _like_  humans,” Lusia murmured. The elf actually caught her jaw, thumb smoothing over her dark skin with a slow smile.

“There are a few exceptions,” he informed her in a low voice.

“I think I enjoy that thought,” she admitted.

“There are many more things I can help you enjoy,” he promised. “Perhaps the night is a little old to show you. Another day, maybe?”

He turned to the table and ladled himself a drink. Lusia realised he was about to leave and caught his arm. He looked at her in curiosity.

“If we leave Halamshiral, I fear that this night will pass into obscurity and you’ll simply become my dear friend again,” she mumbled. Teeth worried at her plump, dark lip, and Solas stared openly. “If you are going to show me more, it happens tonight, before I forget or you change your mind or  _something_ happens to make this shatter.”

“Then there is still time,” he said quietly. “Follow me, Inquisitor.”

He grasped her hand and they managed, somehow, among the chaos and the whispers, to slip undetected to the apartments near the hall of trophies. Everyone noticed them go but nobody saw them leave, and Briala’s people silently closed ranks to avoid their detection. They clicked up the stairs, into the lush dark of the well-decorated rooms. It was silent here, far from the crowd and any prying eyes. For a moment, there was peace, and Lusia took a deep breath of cool air and leaned against a bookshelf, eyeing the apostate who had momentarily placed his weight on a table. His eyes glowed in the dark like a wolf’s, and she shivered. Solas’ head snapped up to look at her, and he stood.

In a heartbeat the elven mage changed, his body shifting to a more predatory stance as he pinned her against the bookshelf and, blessedly, thrust his lips against hers for the first time that evening. Maker, it was like Andraste’s fire in her mouth, setting a passion in her bones that the devious elf only built upon. His hips were between her legs, grinding into her with heat and fire, and  _Maker_ , Solas, what had the man been hiding?! She felt the lump by her thigh, hot and long and thick, and moaned in surprise at the girth of him. He was a slight man by all means, but apparently what he lacked in muscle, like what Cullen or Blackwall had, he made up elsewhere. And he was strong too, fingers on her hips pushing her into the wood as the elf on top of her writhed and moaned, his voice soft and hard at the same time.

 _Like him_ , some teenage part of Lusia’s brain giggled, but her mind blanked as the elf left her lips to go for her neck. She almost cursed the exposed neckline she had gone for – but then he bit down hard on her dark skin and she forgot to be cross with her clothes. Certainly, Solas had no trouble with them. His fingers squirmed over the silk, rubbing her body like he was massaging her, and within seconds she found the reason why. His hands reached her arse and he squeezed gently, working the soft, sensitive flesh there lovingly.

“How long have you…Maker,  _Solas…_ how long have you liked my arse?” she gasped, as he nipped and sucked at her skin. She felt the satisfied smile against her neck and blushed.

“I must say, trekking up the mountain that first day we met was quite a gorgeous journey. The armour you wore was very unflattering up top, but the view below was…beautiful,” he chuckled. “Are you surprised? Standoffish as you have told me I can be, I appreciate the beauty of a woman, even a human, though you have quite exceeded my expectations.” He drew back somewhat. “Here you are, Herald, panting and blushing in my hands, and I have barely begun.”

“Then get back to it,” she begged. “Before I throw you down onto that table.”

“Very soft,” he murmured, moving his hands back to her hips and stroking the soft silk circling her hips. Solas palmed her crotch, watching Lusia’s eyes close as he worked a thumb against the clothed sex. “I wonder how you  _taste,_  Inquisitor.”

An expert hand rotated and slid into her silk underthings, and the only thing softer than them was the skin of her sex. She whimpered in need, chest pressing against his, as his fingers slowly slid against her nub, wetting themselves in her slit before returning to rotate over the sensitive bud. Lady Trevelyan forgot how to speak as he touched her, her hands sliding around the back of his neck. She was so hot and wet, not just between her legs but all over her body. She was flustered and needy, sweat beginning to bead as he pushed two fingers inside of her. Oh Maker, the bastard didn’t fight fair. She ground herself against his hand, panting hotly.

“Did you learn this in the Fade too?” she gasped, and Solas laughed, a sultry sound that caused her to buck.

“No, Inquisitor,” he purred. “This is…more realistic practise coming into play.”

His fingers found a right rhythm and a sensitive spot, and suddenly Lady Trevelyan forgot both speech and breath, her legs bowing as his hand sped up. She clenched, trying to stave off the pleasure, only to last a little longer and prolong the delight he was causing.

Also, she hated her orgasm sounds, the face she made.

It was so undignified, even as she tried to stop her face scrunching up and her brows moving without her controlling. Even so, she was no match for the skill of the talented elf, who noticed her concentration and coaxed her eyes open with soft finger strokes across her cheek until she gazed at him, bleary with pleasure and glazed over.

“You’re holding back,” Solas purred. “Why?”

“My face…” she mumbled.

“Trying to come like a Lady,” he chuckled. “Ladies don’t come, Lady Trevelyan. They let their husbands, their Vaels and Pentaghasts and De Launcets, spill into them and end their couplings frustrated and panting. If you wish it, Inquisitor…” the slender fingers began to pull out, “that is how I can leave you.”

She clenched her inner muscles to keep him from leaving, and Solas smirked at her.

“No, no,” she panted, “Maker, Solas, please, I need you!”

Expert fingers swirled in wet flesh as he ground the heel of his palm against her nub. A third finger made its way inside of her, threatening to break the dam she had tried to build.

“Then cease trying to come like a Lady, Inquisitor, and come like a  _woman_ ,” Solas murmured, and thrust into her at a speed no man had ever matched. Lusia’s head snapped back as she tumbled into a wet, satisfying climax, and still Solas pumped his hand into her. Her breath came in gasps and whines, and she writhed in need, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he pushed her through her peak.

When she was finally done, the elf pulled his hand out, and slowly licked the glossy juice from his fingers with an interested look. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the long, wet tongue, so pink, darting out from between his lips and removing her wetness from those wonderful hands.

“So intriguing,” he murmured. “Tangy and sweet at the same time. If I may, Inquisitor…?” he asked, kneeling in front of her. Lusia’s stomach dropped in excitement as he pulled her smallclothes down her legs to reveal her wet, flushed sex to his eyes. She had only ever heard of such a thing. And now here she was, against a bookcase in Halamshiral with an elven apostate on his knees before her, the most powerful people in Orlais only a short distance away. It thrilled her.

When his mouth met her sex she openly cried out, his lips moving gently over her as that tongue flicked quickly between her lower lips. He sucked softly, securing her to the bookshelf with one hand whilst the other stroked her inner thighs, all the while tasting her like she was his last meal. She bent at the waist as he found her nub and he shoved her roughly back against the bookshelf. Within seconds, she found her legs hooked over his shoulders and discovered to her surprise that he could take her full weight this way. It also opened her up delightfully to his questing tongue, and Solas began almost to attack her sex, greedily devouring the wetness that flowed from her and coaxing more out every so often.

Lady Trevelyan was a mess, her clothes damp with sweat. Her hair was coming unpinned from the roll it had been put into, and little strands of it stuck to her dark skin. When Solas’ fingers returned to her she almost collapsed, and the elf paused momentarily to pick her up and sweep a nearby table of books and such, lying her down on it and seamlessly getting back to her sex. Now with his fingers in her, the feeling was twice as intense, if not more, and her legs quivered around him as her pleasure shot skyward. His free hand grasped the neckline of her dress and tugged, pulling it down and exposing her breasts. He palmed her chest gently, thumb and forefinger teasing a nipple as his right hand pushed another digit into her and thrust faster. Lusia lost her mind somewhere between the third finger and the rush of orgasm that struck her moments after. Even when she’d come, he only removed his fingers, lapping up the wetness until she was whining at the sensitivity.

Solas finally pulled his mouth away and stood. Lusia gripped his shoulders, trying to regain her breath as she worked out the best way to flip him over to ride him mercilessly, but the apostate wasn’t interested in being ridden, it seemed.

“What are you attempting?” he murmured.

“You, on your back,” she panted. Solas actually laughed at that, the same seductive sound she’d heard earlier, and his hands gripped her hips tightly like a vice.

“I will not be going on my back,” he chuckled. “In fact, neither will you.”

He leaned down to kiss her and Lusia could taste herself in his mouth, moaning when his thumbs massaged themselves across her hipbones. Maker, yes. He went for her neck again, raising more dark welts across her shoulders too before dipping his head to her breast and sucking on her. The tremors than ran through her body at the sensation were not able to be quelled, especially when that demon’s tongue flicked out and teased the dark point of her breast. He switched, and Lusia lay back and whimpered his name as he ground his still-clothed cock against her sopping slit. Within seconds she was up again, her hand a fist over his member as she rubbed it hard enough for Solas to breathe out helplessly.

“As much as I appreciate the stimulation, Inquisitor,” he purred, “I was having a rather wonderful time tasting your skin. Do you wish to have it all end so quickly?”

“Are you going to have me, Solas or is it all just… _lipservice_?” she asked. He laughed at the pun and then, without warning, flipped her over gently onto her stomach, his hips pinning her to the table as he rubbed himself against her.

“Oh, I will have you,” the elf promised. “You will beg me to stop when I am done with you.”

Lusia whimpered in surprise at the change, feeling Solas fumbling with his belt and trousers before something hard, warm and velvet pressed against her slit. His teeth met her neck and he took the circlet from her hair, unpinning it and letting the long, dark red waves fall around her shoulders. One hand grasped her hip, the other thumbing her nipple, and he took a deep breath before settling himself, and then he thrust into her, hard and fast, barely leaving her time to adjust before the elf began to fuck her frenetically.

He was animalistic in how he took her, so unlike the cool, composed expert she so often spoke to for advice. No, this man above her, buried in her, snarled like a wolf and fucked like she was water and he was burning. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth table he had bent her over, his fingers gathering handfuls of green silk and keeping them pinned to her rear to stop the dress from falling down and getting covered in their juices. It was, after all, still rather lovely, and it would be a shame to ruin it. He didn’t hide his moans, letting them fill the air as their bodies met. He leaned down, biting her shoulder as he pinched her rear, rubbing the soft globe between his fingers and admiring the way he glistened with her arousal every time he pulled out.

He continued to mark her neck as he moved in and out of her, filling her completely each time. She panted his name, and he arched in such a way that he caught something inside her. He felt rather than saw the vibrations that shuddered through her body, and she called to him as breath left her.  _Fenhedis,_ she felt so good, hot and wet and tight around him, chanting his name like the Sisters in the Chantry did with all of Andraste’s Canticles. When he was awake before, beautiful women like Trevelyan were always in his bed, and he had a fondness for many of them. Yet none burned with the fire that Lusia exuded, and his name had never sounded sweeter than when the Herald of Andraste let it tumble from her lips.

She had been on his mind for some time now, not quite in this way but gradually growing towards it. He hadn’t thought of her as the kind he would bend over a table and have without mercy, but this was an excellent option. He pinned both arms above her head by the wrist, his other hand going between her legs. Lady Trevelyan’s plump rear jerked against him as he rubbed her nub, whimpering in pleasure. Solas was eager to listen to hear beg, to watch her red-stained lips form his name. To have the Inquisitor, the powerful leader of the great Inquisition, bent beneath him with sweat covering her body and her clothes in his hands, was immensely satisfying.

He leaned down and murmured softly to her in Elvhen, dirty phrases that she didn’t comprehend yet in ways understood, telling her how she felt, his appreciation of her sounds, what he was going to do to her in that luxurious bed in Skyhold. She shuddered and sighed, and came on his cock as he continued to talk, tucking her arms behind her back and using them as leverage to take her, hard and fast. She felt wonderful, and Solas knew he wouldn’t last much longer inside her. He lifted up one of her legs and tucked it over the crook of his arm, fucking her that way as she gazed stupidly into his eyes.

“Solas,” she whimpered. “Maker, Solas, please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop until you beg,” he breathed, holding her tightly and admiring her flexibility. He could do wonders with such elasticity in a woman. She dug her fingers into his arms, crying out loudly when he moved again, sitting her on the table edge and carrying her as though she were weightless, her legs over his shoulders as he pushed himself towards his own end. She had been given several, and now it was his turn to enjoy some carnal delights. She was wet and heady, sweating out a scent that made his head light and his cock grow stiffer. It was so mortal, so vulnerable and excited, that he almost forgot himself, hissing now in Elvhen the exact amount of time he would spend tying her to her own bed before he teased her and had her again.

Thinking of her, blindfolded, arms spread out, sent a shock straight to his groin, and Solas let out a cry of ‘Inquisitor!’ and spilled inside her, ensuring that not a drop escaped her. He held them together for some time until he eventually pulled out, pulling up her smallclothes and kissing her firmly. She looked a mess, a wet, sexed-up mess of Lady that Solas just wanted to have all over again.

“Solas,” she breathed.

“Inquisitor,” he murmured. “I shan’t kiss and tell.”

“Does that mean you would pursue this as a relationship?” Lusia whispered.

“I…to end this now, it would be kinder in the long run, but…I cannot. You have…there is something about you, Inquisitor,” he admitted.

“Call me by my name,” she pleaded.

“Lusia,” he purred.

“Solas,” she said, with a small smile. “Come on, before they send someone to find us.”

They righted their clothes, and spent a few moments kissing softly, before the Inquisitor took her elven apostate’s hand and headed back towards the ballroom.


End file.
